Shadow of the Dark Moon
by lunablue
Summary: Sequel to Full Moon. As desperation and loneliness give way to a deep sense of belonging, Harry fights his biggest enemy yet, himself. Can a child of the light discover contentment in the pits of darkness? And when all is lost, can you follow your heart o
1. Dark Moon Manor

Title: Shadow of the Black Moon

Author: Lunablue

Warning: Post Order of the Phoenix

Overall Rating: NC17

Yahoo!Group: Harry Potter and Co. belongs to J.K. Rowling and Associated Co. All rights reserved. 

Summary: As desperation and loneliness give way to a deep sense of belonging, Harry fights his biggest enemy yet,

himself. Can a child of the light discover contentment in the pits of darkness? And when all is lost, can you follow your

heart or will it betray you as well? 

Author's Notes: Well, the journey begins. Sit down, hold on tight and don't forget to wear your seat belts.

I'm about to take you on the ride of your life here people. And remember, the Dark Moon is a time of rest.

Special thanks to DragonStarbo for being my secret sounding board, to James for being the one to tip the scales 

and talk me into writing this sequel and to Lady Mandara Snake for making such a thought provoking statement about my 

fic in her ff.net bio. Here's a hint love, how you described Full Moon is going to become a major plot theme of this story 

later on. ^^

//indicates parseltongue spoken aloud//

Chapter 1: Dark Moon Manor

_Harry's eyes caught a brief glimpse of Hermione and Ron as they sat there staring in shock  
  
'can I do it? . . . . . . Avada Kedavra. . . . . . . . yes. I can.'  
  
Then he and his beloved were soaring away from their past and towards the future, _

_their new family only seconds behind them.  
  
'Death's Dance'  
  
The feeling of Harry's warm hand in his brought more joy to Draco than he ever thought possible.  
  
'He's caught you Draco, he's caught you in his web and he's never going to let you go.'  
  
And in the background of his mind, Draco noted how much traveling by port key reminded him of _

_what it might feel like to sprout angel wings._  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ 

They hit the floor with a thud. Knee's pressed hard into cold stone, 

their hands outstretched to brace themselves. The sound of a silver, 

blood-coated feather falling to the ground went unheard over the pound 

of a hundred bodies hitting the floor at once. 

The stone floor was worn smooth with the traffic of a thousand years use, 

dark auburn stains splashed liberally across it. Above their heads arched a 

ceiling of magnificent proportions with beams the size of tree's holding it up 

and in the very middle of the whole thing it reached it's highest point. The 

room's brightest light, which wasn't very bright at all, was a huge gothic 

chandelier that hung from the middle of the ceiling. Black brass with sharp 

points and hundreds of candles dimly flickering in its grasp, the monstrosity 

hung half way to the floor, demanding attention.

Small green flames were spread throughout the chamber, floating in empty silver bowls 

that protruded from the round wall that encircled the room. Shadows lingered 

everywhere, like a heavy, Scottish morning mist. On each side of the arrivals was a long 

wooden table with benches, similar to those found in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

Fear curdled deep in the pit of Harry's abdomen, tightening and twisting in on itself, 

turning him nauseas with nerves. Slowly the initiates began to stand up, an ocean of 

green and silver speckled with blue and yellow. Out of the corner of his left eye he 

saw the familiar blaze of crimson and gold topped by coopery Weasley Red, Ginny 

was standing proud and tall, a sense of sureness and purpose radiating from her in waves.  

Desperately he reached deep inside of himself, pulling on all the inner strength and 

resolve he had to see himself through the night, to appear as confident and self assured

as Ginny did. 

He stood with casual grace, brushing away imaginary wrinkles in his robes, looking for

all the world as if he didn't have a care. Silently giving thanks to the hours he had spent that 

summer, secretly training himself in Occlumency. He hadn't been sure he'd succeed until 

now, his scar blessedly silent. To his left Draco stood, a calm and reassuring presence, the

eye of the storm to the tempest of Harry's veiled and chaotic emotions.

Fortifying his mental shields Harry gave himself two more seconds to steel his control before

lifting his head and gazing forward, eyes of cut jade taking in the sight of his future with feigned

apathy. In front of him was a throne, huge and archaic, dark cherry wood draped in forest green 

cloths that sprawled across the floor. The throne sat on a platform that was preceded by three 

stone steeps, pillows of every size were scattered on the dais and in the midst of the luxurious 

chaos sat the object that Harry's universe had spent the last six years revolving around. 

Voldemort was sprawling luxuriously across his throne, silver robes glittering like diamonds against

his bone white skin. Wand casually twirled between pianist fingers as ruby snake eyes appraised his

newest followers, like a farmer surveying his cattle. Death Eaters lined the walls, blurred in with the

shadows, steel masks gleaming in the darkness. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them, more 

than the Order of the Phoenix had ever imagined, even in their worst nightmares. It was an imposing

site, to see so many bringers of death gathered together.

"Welcome," a dry voice hissed forth from a lipless slit, "to your new home my children. Welcome

to Dark Moon Manor." Slowly he stood, boneless like a cat. Gliding down the steps he began to walk

amongst them, a gentle smile pasted mockingly on his skeletal face. 

"Here your dreams and nightmares will come true. Here you will learn things to dazzle the 

mind, ensnare the senses. It is here that you will find yourself, your strengths and weaknesses, 

it is here you will find acceptance. Within these walls lies your family, your brothers and your 

sisters, people who can understand you like no one else ever has." With each step he flowed 

deeper into the crowd as they parted like the Red Sea, just far enough away for him to get 

through. Then he was standing in the midst of them, exactly underneath the chandelier. Close

enough to Harry that he could see the individual scales that composed Voldemort's skin.

"You are here today because you wish to be marked, to be a brethren of Death. A

warrior of darkness, a deliverer of your people from the dirt and sin of today's society.

You want to make something more of yourself. You are here because you wish the honor 

of being one of the elite, one of the few and the proud. You, my child, are gathered here 

today to request the right to be called Death Eater." And with that he spun in a slow circle,

making eye contact with as many as he could, trying to form bonds as quickly as possible.

Harry was spotted three-fourths way through his turn.

'It was inevitable,' he supposed, 'that Voldemort would notice him so soon.'

"Potterrrr. . . ." 

A hand, cold and harsh, struck like a snake. Grabbing his chin and jerking upward, forcing

eye contact. The second their eyes connected it was like time froze and the world fell away.

Mentally he threw everything he had into his shields, turning his mind into an impenetrable fortress

that would require months of siege to penetrate. His trembling, a weakness he did not currently 

have the luxury to allow, was stopped before it began by nothing more than a bit of full hardy 

Gryffindor stubbornness and a deeply rooted, pre-Hogwarts sense of survival. 

Eyes never breaking contact, Harry forced his outer self to surrender completely, a slow slink

to the ground until knees dug into rough stone floor. Arms dangling empty and useless at his 

sides as black school robes collapse around him in a puddle. Pale, slender swan neck exposed 

completely, his entire being utterly defenseless, all this followed by one simple acknowledgement. 

"Master."

At that Voldemort started, his sharp nails digging deeper into Harry's skin, drawing tiny 

droplets of blood. The pain snapped the world back into orbit and released the floods of time

but the staring contest continued. The air was thick with tension, magic levels high and thrumming.

The Death Eaters who had previously lined the walls were now much closer, mingled in with the 

younger initiates, wands drawn and waiting for their lord and master to give them the command, 

whatever it may be. 

Finally Voldemort seemed to come to a conclusion of some sorts, nodding slightly to himself and 

slowly letting go of Harry's chin, nails dragging until there was nothing left to touch.

"And why are you here tonight, child?"

"Revenge."

"Against whom?"

"Those who have wronged me. Those who used me."

"And who would these people be?"

"Dumbledore. Those who would call me friend only to be able to call Harry Potter friend. My muggle relatives."

"I never sent you an invintation."

"I was invited."

"By who?"

"Me, my lord." Draco stepped forward into the hollow circle that had formed around 

his beloved and his Master. Eyes on the floor he went to his knee's and bowed low, forehead 

grazing the floor and hands clasped loosely behind his back. His shiny locks like spun gold, 

falling forward in a cascade around his face. 

"And what did you see, my Dragon, inside my mortal enemy that caused you to invite him to my hearth?

Why did you dare presume to invite Harry Potter to the sacred sanctuary of Lord Voldemort?"

"Because, Master, when I looked into his eyes I saw myself."

"I see."

Voldemort nodded to himself again, stepping back slowly, silk robes making a soft swish 

sound as the material rubbed against itself. A sharp but small hand gesture had his masked 

followers sliding their wands back up their wrist sheaths as they stepped back into the 

shadows, promptly but reluctantly, barely suppressed hatred coursing through their veins.

More than one of them had a grunge with the pale child that they wouldn't mind taking out on his hide.

Their pound of flesh and quart of blood if you will.

"Well then, it seems we have a special treat tonight my kin. Tonight marks the fall of the icon

of the lights only hope. Tonight, we welcome Harry Potter to our folds." His voice was tinged with a 

deep sense of satisfaction, he had won a great, unexpected victory tonight. Twirling in a circle, robes

flaring out dramatically, he laughed with sadistic joy before coming to a stop in front of Harry's still form.

Suddenly serious he held out his left arm, hand slowly uncurling like a spider as his red eyes glowed

with the fires of hell.

"Your arm, if you will Mister Potter."

Everything started moving quick after that, like lightening during a thunderstorm. 

Bam, wham, thank you ma'm. Would you like fries with that Dark Mark? Or perhaps a barely 

bleeding mudblood, fresh from the streets and still in shock? 

His mind had detached itself from his body and was only catching glimpses of what happened, still frames.

Muggle photos. He was on his feet with no clue how he'd gotten there, expert hands with years of experience 

unbuttoning his robes, the sleeve of his left arm rolled up, tight and scratchy on his forearm, then he was 

on his knee's again. 

The air thick and heavy, someone had started burning sandalwood and sage. Hundreds of people, known 

and unknown, masked and unmasked, surrounded them in a great big circle. Pressing in on them.

Watching, weighing, judging. He'd lost Draco in his haze. The lights had become suddenly dimmer as the red of 

Voldemort's eyes grew brighter, more intense and hot, like he could sear your soul with his gaze alone. Standing

so tall and regal, imposing, the devil among the damned. The shadows became darker, coming to life, deepening 

into something sinister and deadly. 

A wand, so alike to his own but cold and erotically impersonal, pressed deep into his arm,. Words hissed in the 

parsel tongue of snakes, forked and full of untruths. Curling around his bones and digging deep into his soul. 

Invading his senses and taking over, demanding unwavering attention. Magic began to fill the room to suffocation

with every word the Lord of Darkness spoke.

"//My sssssson, you have come to me at lassssssst I seeeee. Come home to your brotherssssss and ssissssssssstersssss.

Come home to thosssse like yourssssself. Sssssssswwear thysssssself to me child, sssssssswear me your heart and your

life, sssssswear me everything that isssss yourssssself, sssssswear it all to me and I ssssssshall deliver unto you the world.

The sssssssacrifice issssss great and the rewardsssssssssssss greater. I who am Lord and Father, Brother and Lover,

trusssssst in me and I sssssshall protect you from thosssssssse who do not undersssssssstand, thosssssse who would harm 

you in jealoussssssy. Ssssswear to me your sssssoul and I ssssswear to deliver it unto the Summer Fields.//"

The words were slippery and echoed, sometimes sounding far away then suddenly ringing loud 

in his ears. They touched a deep part of himself, a place he hadn't known existed until tonight, touched 

it and took home there. Though the situation was dangerous he felt himself relax even farther, as if a 

heavy weight was being lifted off his shoulders. This is where he belonged, here with Draco. Here in the 

snakes pit, where the light couldn't penetrate and he could rest his weary eyes. Here where he had _chosen_ to be. 

Not Dumbledore, not some stupid prophecy, not McGonagall, himself. It may not have been the best 

place or the right place but it was the place he'd chosen. He was here because he'd put himself here and 

he'd pay the consequences of his own actions for once, not those of some unseen chess player. For

once he was the master of his own fate. 

Falling down, hitting the ground, everything suddenly went surround sound and techonocolor.

Green eyes snapping into focus Harry stared strait into Voldemort eyes, piercing and fierce.

Taking a deep breath he spoke the final word that sealed his fate.

"//Yesssssssss//"

Then the magic exploded and all was pain.

tbc . . . 


	2. The Summoning

Title: Shadow of the Black Moon

Author: lunablue

Warning: Post Order of the Pheonix

Overall Rating: NC17

Yahoo!Group: 

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. belongs to J.K. Rowling and Associated Co. All rights reserved. 

Summary: As desperation and loneliness give way to a deep sense of belonging, Harry fights his biggest enemy yet,

himself. Can a child of the light discover contentment in the pits of darkness? And when all is lost, can you follow your

heart or will it betray you as well? 

Author's Notes:  Well, after many agonizing weeks of bipolar behavior the little Harry in my head has finally settled

on a mood for this story. The battle between us two was grand and glorious, the stuff of legends. I won. ^_^ Hopefully

now that my notebook is full and the battle field in my mind has started to heal over the chapters will be able to flow

more quickly. Of course, considering the fact that I attend two different schools and am currently failing one of them

in my senior year…………please allow my the leniency of a student who wishes to earn her High School Diploma. 

Which, by the way, neither of my parents have. Three months to go, can I do it? Wish me luck. *crosses fingers*

//indicates parseltongue spoken aloud//

'indicates thought'

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Two:  The Summoning

The party was in full swing, dark and sensual. 

Masks thrown off and robes loosened or discarded, the tables overflowed with the 

food and ale.

The floor was like an orgy with clothes, bodies withering against each other in beat to 

the music that filled the chamber. Dark magic slithered along the room, invisible but there.

Coiling around glistening bodies as arousal perfumed the air, a few nameless muggles 

could be found against the walls, drugged and obedient, ready and willing. The music 

was so loud you could feel it reverberating in the floor, sending pulses of energy strait 

up your body .  

One of Harry's arms was draped around the neck of the person behind him as the 

other dangled at his side. Head titled to the left exposing his pale neck to Draco's cherry

lips, their hips aligned as ass ground against  hard cock. Random thoughts floating through

his mind, Harry felt giddy and high, relaxed and spinning out of control all at once. It

was a heady feeling and he couldn't remember having ever been more satisfied, more 

blissful in his entire life. 

'The muggles got one thing right, dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal want.'

Then Draco's hips changed their movement, grew quicker and harder, beating all thought

out of his head and leaving only the rush of blood through his body, only feelings and sensations. 

~ ~ ~ 

Harry woke up the next day feeling amazingly refreshed and relaxed, almost content. 

A warm and very naked body was draped across his back and sinfully soft sheets were

tangled in his legs. Eyes opened lethargically slow, blinking lazily as they took in the

surroundings. 

Walls made of dark gray stone, packed together tightly as if protecting it's contents

from the outside world. Like the chamber they'd meet the Dark Lord in, this room

also lacked windows. The bed was huge and made of dark cherry wood, four poster

and covered in creamy white sheets. The ceiling was slightly rounded, as if to support

a great pressure from above. On one side of the room sat a grand armoire and on the 

other a desk similar to the one in Professor Snape's office. The floor was made of stone 

but was mostly covered by a vaguely Asian looking rug while hundreds upon hundreds of 

candles were spread about the room, covering every surface available.

'Beeswax.' noted Harry after delicately sniffing the air. Yawning he twisted onto his 

other side so that the hand on his abdomen ended up laying against his ass. Draco slept

silently, slowly exhaling and inhaling through ruby parted lips as candlelight flickered across his

skin, enhancing his inhuman beauty to the point of pain. His skin was as translucent and pale

as the moon, sooty eyelashes resting softly on high cheekbones, hiding gray eyes that burned 

you with their intensity. 

Draco was one of the few things left that could drag any form of strong emotion from Harry

anymore, one of the few things left that could break the ice shield he'd self imposed  over 

his heart. Draco was the only person left who could bring him to life, strip his soul naked and

make him feel beautiful for his flaws and his strengths. Cause his eyes to burn with passion

and emotion to flicker across his face, undiluted and pure, unchecked and unguarded.

But those times together were for private, when no one else was around and their guard could

drop, never completely of course, never to the point of naively dangerous, but dropped down

nonetheless. 

Closing his eyes Harry leaned forward and softly brushed a kiss against the lips of the God 

of his heart before snuggling deeper into the warm embrace, welcoming the oblivion of sleep

into his mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Perhaps not so much of an oblivion as he'd wished for. 

Dream Harry walked through the halls of Hogwarts like a lost shade, unseen and unheard.

The sound of his footsteps enchoing only to his ears, not even Mrs. Norris registered his

presence. Then he was standing in front of a gargoyle statue, drifting through it like a ghost,

shivering as the cold stone brushed against every atom of his being. The spiraling staircase

seemed to lead upwards forever, as if the Headmaster's office was the office of the Christian

God and existed in the Heavens themselves.

The plain wooden door was already open and inside sat the King of the white set, his Knights

and Bishops in council, the two Castles standing at his side like good little Aurors. Panic was 

evident, the game was practically lost, their Queen had defected. Whatever would they do?

Then he was gone from the little room of god, silent feet not quite brushing the Gryffindor 

Common's floor as he stared at the scene before him. Ron's red hair glowing copper in the light 

of the dying embers, his head buried in Hermione's lap as he sobbed out the pieces of his 

broken heart, shoulders shuddering as he gasped for breath. He lay on the couch in a messy

heap, rumbled hand me down robes smoldering his petite frame. Glazed caramel eyes stared

listlessly at nothing as Hermione mindlessly stroked her beloved in an futile attempt to comfort.

Her frizzy hair was pulled haphazardly into a bun and her cheeks were tinged red. 'They always

turn red when she's worried, they stayed that strawberry color all June during the OWLS' 

Harry recalled in a distantly fond sort of way before the memory of her role in his failed suicide 

attempt washed it away in a glorious numb haze.

'Avada Kedavra'

He mouths the words slowly, reverently like a pray as his fingers tingle from want of a wand.

But he's not even really there and the little lion pawns sit safely in their tower, oblivious.

~ ~ ~ ~

He's awake instantly, like someone threw a switch in his head.

The lust is a poison in his blood, slowly burning itself into a demanding inferno, the source of 

his pleasure is gently throbbing on the bend of his arm, promising release if he just gives in now.

Somehow Harry instinctively knows that the whole surrender of his self would grant him such 

pleasure as only hours spent under Draco's mouth could bring. Just give himself into the hands 

of his master, drop responsibility for once and let another make the choice, just give in and be, 

just feel. And he does, with a quickness and ease that surprises himself.  

A quick wiggle later he is out from his beloved's arms and standing, startled to see a house elf 

already present and to dress him in a plain black linen robe and bamboo flip flops. Dressing quickly 

he tries to control his breathing, to ignore the pleasure that is slowly building in his abdomen, 

twisting and curling in on him like python.

Without a glance back he's slipping out the door, moving instinctively towards where he is required 

to be, knowing in way that is not knowing where to go, feet moving without conscious guidance 

from his mind. Outside the room is a well lit hallway similar to the deepest part of the Slytherin dungeons 

back at Hogwarts. Silencing charms absorb the echo of his steps as he walks the long corridors, past 

doors similar to his own, past alcoves and flicker torches, past everything and always downwards, 

away from it all.

After a while the dust starts to grow thicker and the torches fewer and fewer in between, the ceiling 

starts to fall lower and the stone below his feet become more rough, less worn from less travel.   

The deeper he travels into the underground web, the closer to his master he got, the stronger the

pleasure built until at last he took a final left and came face to face with a plain door, obviously

well taken care of compared to the rest of rotten wood ones he'd seen nearly falling off their hinges.

Standing there was torture at best as the heat burned so badly he thought he'd spontaneously combust,

like a phoenix. 

//Come in.//

A silibant hiss caressed his skin as the door creaked open on it's own accord.

He walked as if in a dream, lost in the mist of the pleasure that overwhelmed him. It felt like he was 

floating across the floor, his head was light and everything had taken on a blurr. The Harry saw him,

folded comfortably into a ornate plum chair, the walls a background of ancient tombs. Clothed in

a simple robin blue lounging robe, red eyes piercingly sharp and clear, a startling contrast to the rest

of the room.

He'd done it, he'd obeyed his master.

Kneeling on the rug covered floor, eyes closed and arms behind his back, head bowed, Harry whispered "Master." 

Then the pleasure exploded in his mind in a silent, drawn out orgasm of mental bliss as Lord Voldemort 

threw back his head and laughed.

tbc . . . 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________


End file.
